


What's A Name?

by Vonnelise



Series: The Weird Ones' Epilogue [29]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: A little, Age Difference, Bickering, Boners, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Grinding, Groping, Humor, Interracial Relationship, Kissing, Married Couple, Maybe more - Freeform, No Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Original Female Character of Color, Pregnancy, Pregnant Female Character, baby naming, just a bit, make out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vonnelise/pseuds/Vonnelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So it pains me to say this, but I plan on ending this series a little after the baby is born. It's about time that I let these characters go and focus on my other stories that I have carelessly abandoned (lol so dramatic). I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Sally Hemings

I'm four months pregnant now. You can officially tell that there's a human inside me now. Dean likes to rub my belly a lot...as if I'm a dog -_- but he's just excited. 

I'm currently sitting on the couch with Dean's big body between my legs on the floor. He finally let me braid his hair. But the deal was that we got to watch a show of his choosing. And of course it's on the History Channel, something smart. 

"This is more relaxing than I thought it'd be," he mumbles. 

I snort. "I knew you'd like it." 

The documentary playing on screen is about the private lives of the Founding Fathers. This hour is about Thomas Jefferson. He's the most interesting. 

"That dude's nasty, Dean. How is he gonna fuck his wife and then go out into the field to fuck his slave, and then has the nerve to do speeches talking about how they're inferior. He's a fucking idiot."

"Was an idiot. I bet he was feeling the same thing internally, but had to keep up that façade. Who knows?" Dean says. 

A commercial comes finally, the History Channel knows how to be depressing. They're advertising another documentary series on the species of names. 

"Where did your name come from, honey bear?" I ask. 

I'm on the fifth braid. His silver hair looks cool braided up. He probably won't agree though. 

"My mother was a huge James Dean fan back then. When he died, she was really heartbroken. So she vowed to name her son after him. James was too common, so Dean it was," he says. 

"Humph, after all this time I never knew that. Cool back story."

"Heh, thanks. What about you? Where did your name come from? I've never heard of anyone named Tambryn before you."

I sigh. "My backstory isn't as cool as yours. My mom liked this local news anchor's name. Her name was Tamron Hall. She wanted to switch it up a little bit so she added the 'B'. See? My story isn't that cool." 

"I disagree. Your name hasn't existed anywhere else until now. That's fascinating in itself." 

I lean down to kiss the top of his braids. "Aww, my honey bear. Always makin' me feel better."

"Stop calling me that," he huffs. 

"Why? You don't wanna be my honey bear?" At this point I'm just saying it to annoy him. 

"Then I get to call you my mistress."

I slap the top of his head. He laughs. "That's not funny, Dean. I'm your wife, the mother of your unborn child."

He turns around to face me. Dean rubs my tummy before leaning up to give me a kiss. I feel his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me halfway off the sofa. 

"I was joking. I can't joke with my Princess anymore?" 

"Your show is back on," I say. 

He doesn't move a muscle. "Princess?"

I crack a smile. I won't let him suffer. My fingers poke at his dimples. The smile is all he needs. Dean turns back around and leans back, silently encouraging me to continue with braiding his hair. 

"Speaking of names, who's last name is the baby getting?" He asks. 

"Both."

"Both?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with both? We both made the creature," I say. 

"I don't know."

"Fine, then yours. I saw how much you wanted me to take your name and ditch my maiden one. So the baby can have yours."

He breathes out a sigh of pure satisfaction. "Great. You can pick the middle name."

"And we'll both pick the first name. Deal?" 

"Deal," Dean agrees. 

I hold an unfinished braid between my fingers and pinky promise Dean with the other hand. 

Thomas Jefferson is back on screen.


	2. Azeeza

I wake up from my second nap this day. The sky is a dark blue revealing the evening. 

Man, life moves pretty fast when you take two naps a day. My feet hit the ground and I make my way down the stairs. The smell of oregano, roasted tomatoes, and some type of meat lead me to the kitchen. 

Dean's back is turned toward me as he cuts something on the counter. His back muscles move easily under the white t-shirt. His hair is still in the bun he made me put it in before I took my first nap. 

He sets down the knife and reaches out for his glass of red wine. My shoulders slump. God, I miss the simple pleasure of having a fucking drink. The taste would be enough. 

An idea pops in my head. 

"Whatcha make?" I ask while coming up from behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. 

"Finally, you're up. While you were in hibernation, I thought it was a great time to roast a chicken without having you ask me when dinner would be ready every ten minutes," he points to a platter of potatoes. "And baked rosemary potatoes," lastly he points to a bowl of colorful vegetables. "And a spring mix salad." Always the healthy one.

He reaches for the bottle of wine when he notices his glass is empty. 

"I'll pour it for you, Deanie," I grab his glass before he gets it. 

"How surprisingly...thoughtful of you," he ponders while piling our plates with food. 

I make sure he isn't looking and pour half cranberry juice and the other half with vodka. The glass is stuffed back in his hand. 

"Thanks, baby." Dean then takes a sip. He looks at the glass and then at me. 

"Never had wine that tasted this strong. Which one did you pick?"

Wine isn't my preferred drink, so I don't know the names of it in Dean's collection. "Umm, the one you just had...?" I say. 

He takes another sip, nodding. "Hmm, it's just that my last glass was smooth, sweet. But this glass here tastes like vodka."

Caught. 

Fuck, I read somewhere that if you mix vodka and cranberry juice that it'd taste like wine. Guess you can't believe every source. 

"That's because it is."

He nods. Dean sets the glass down to walk to the table with our plates. I follow him with the vodka. 

"Why?" He asks, sitting down. 

"Because I really miss alcohol and I just want to lick the inside of your mouth to get the taste of it." It's the most truthful answer there is. 

My husband is surprised by my answer to say anything right away, his blue eyes widening. 

"You're an alcoholic," he accuses. 

This guy.

"Pfft. Fuck you, Dean. If that was true, I would've been drunk by now. I haven't had a glass since I found out. What I'm askin' you isn't that bad. A little disgusting, but not bad."

We each take a seat at the table, his eyes not leaving mine. "Fine. But don't blame me if I get hard."

My eyes roll on their own. Fuckin' ape. "Whatever, just gulp as much as you can."

Dean does just that. Both of our plates of food go untouched. He sets down the glass a little too quickly for my taste, but he did well for a person who doesn't normally drink vodka. 

I lean forward into his lap and dive my tongue into his awaiting mouth. Our lips meet sometime after. I lick into his cheeks, tongue, and even under his tongue. When the taste starts to wear off, that's when I back away. 

"You...you tongue raped me," he sputters. 

"Oh shut up, Princess and drink some more," I wipe my mouth. 

Dean obeys and gulps more than last time. Thank God. 

I lean forward and lave his tongue with mine. One of his big hands reaches to grip my ass, pulling me fully into his lap. With our crotches so close together, I can feel him growing harder and harder. 

When the taste wears off again, I back away, rubbing my belly. 

"You hungry?" Dean asks while still trying to catch his breath. 

I shake my head no. 

"You should still eat, though. You've been asleep all day," he points out. 

"Weird. You're dick's hard but you're saying opposite of what it says," I tell him. 

His nose scrunches up. "I'm getting mixed signals here. You don't want to have sex, but you're talking as if you want to..."

"I don't want to fuck you now. Drink some more, Dean. God."

He does just that and gulps down the rest of the glass. 

My mouth is on his in seconds. And there's that taste I've been missing! Vodka. Bitter, sweet, tart vodka. 

Both of his hands are cupping my ass, pushing me more into his lap. My hands are on his broad chest to keep my upper balance. 

I back away after the taste dies off. Dean leans back looking completely smitten. I reach for the bottle of vodka and pour it into the wine glass. 

"There's no juice in there," Dean points out. 

My face scrunches up. "So? Do you know how many times I've been without juice and STILL had a great time with vodka?" I say. 

Dean shakes his head, but drinks anyway. 

I rub his scalp just the way he likes. My husband's eyes begin to flutter. He sets the glass down. I dive back into his wet mouth with my tongue. 

He squeezes my ass, really massaging his hands into my cheeks. I think he's getting tipsy...and hornier. 

When the taste starts to wear off, I back away again, but my body doesn't get too far from him. His eyes are starting to get hazed over. This lightweight. 

"You lightweight," I tease. 

"Not everyone is an alcoholic like Tambryn," he slurs. I roll my eyes. "You know out of all the women I've been with, you have the biggest butt?" He proves his point by squeezing my ass again. 

I snort and giggle. "I guessed that awhile ago since you can never take your hands off my ass."

"Girls didn't have this much ass where I came from."

"Where I come from, a lot of girls had ass like this."

He chuckles, vibrant blues meeting my eyes. "Wish I grew up where you did." 

"Oh, please. You would've been up to your nostrils in child support if you did," I get out of his lap and take a seat. 

"Eat, my wife and unborn kid haven't eaten all day."

 

The next day we're in the doctor's office to find out the gender. Dean's in the corner of the room with his head leaning on one of his hands. He's still a bit hungover from last night. Big baby. 

The door opens to reveal my doctor. She's a middle aged short woman with brown hair with streaks of white in it. Her red glasses are perched up on her nose. Her name is Dr. Bellerose. She's one of the few OBGYNs that speak English around here. 

"Bonjour, Mrs. Maverick. Monsieur?" She nods at my husband in the corner. 

He grunts in acknowledgement. The doctor quirks an eyebrow at him. 

"Oh, don't mind him. He's working off a hangover," I say. 

Dean's mouth opens to say something, but closes it when he figures out he doesn't have the energy. 

"Before I came in here, I was looking over your chart and everything seems to be in order. Any questions for me?" Her French accent comes through thickly and it's so adorable. 

"Yeah, how much weight gain will I have?" 

"A lot," Dean mumbles.

I flip him the finger and smile at the doctor. 

"Women normally gain about thirty pounds from their pregnancy," she answers. 

"You said normally. We're not dealing with a normal pregnant woman here. She eats more than me." I will shoot him. 

The doctor looks over me, I give her a nervous smile. "If that's true, Madame Maverick, then we might have to set you up on a meal plan. We have a nutritionist that works here as well."

I glare at the prick who is my husband. He smiles. 

"I'm fine, doctor."

She doesn't look too sure, but doesn't further the conversation. "So you all came in to find out the sex, correct?" 

We both nod excitedly. 

Dean gets the strength to stand by me as the doctor hooks me up to the machines. 

She rubs the wand around my belly until the baby comes up on the screen. A big smile spreads across my face. 

"It seems that you two will be having a girl," Dr. Bellerose says. 

Aha! "I knew it! Mother's instinct!"

Dean smiles. 

"Would you all like copies of the ultrasound?"

"Yes," he answers. 

"Twenty of them," I add. 

"The limit is five, sorry."

"Five is fine, thanks. Don't know what we'd do with twenty copies anyway."

"Umm, back ups," duh. 

The doctor laughs, handing me the copies. "You two are made for each other."

 

"Now we can start thinking of names!" I say as we walk hand in hand back to the car. 

"Nothing outrageous, Tambryn."

"And what made you say that?"

"Your personality made me say that," he answers while opening the car door for me. 

"Oh, fuck off. We're not naming the baby anything boring."

"The name doesn't have to be boring, but we want this kid to have a career one day."

"Ugh, already looking twenty years ahead. Does it hurt to be that responsible?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Dean says. 

I punch him in the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it pains me to say this, but I plan on ending this series a little after the baby is born. It's about time that I let these characters go and focus on my other stories that I have carelessly abandoned (lol so dramatic). I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: The origins of their names, are exactly how I picked them. I'm so in love with Mr. James Dean that I actually have a tattoo of his signature on the inside of my forearm. And Tamron Hall was an anchor on my local news years back. 
> 
> The second chapter will be about their visit to the doctor (where they find out the gender) and maybe I'll throw in some fucking, who knows. We'll see where the night takes us. 
> 
> But I hope you guys liked it!


End file.
